


some semblance of sanity

by langst101



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Biphobia, Bullying, Depression, Dysfunctional Family, Eating Disorders, Gen, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, Mental Health Issues, Mild Gore, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-11-21 02:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11348286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/langst101/pseuds/langst101
Summary: Allura and Coran introduce a new element into training - a more advanced version of the mind meld, a self-aware mental screening machine named Lysma.Angst and space family bonding ensues.(aka a self-indulgent fic because i love team bonding and angst rips)**also, strap in bois, this long train crash of a fic is full of potentially triggering content so don't read if any of the tags make you uncomfortable! tags are regularly updated for every chapter~





	1. Chapter 1

"...and so that is why today, Allura and I will not be running today's training session! We will, however, be observing from a distance, so do take this seriously!" Coran chirped in a voice way too cheery for the five grumpy, sleep-deprived paladins right now.

 

Apparently, at some point in training it was necessary for all Paladins to undergo a mental health screening to ensure that they were in good enough shape to form Voltron, as well as to make sure their intentions were not 'impure'.

 

(At this, Lance wondered aloud, "But what about Zarkon? Seemed like a pretty evil dude to me..." but Allura's face scrunched up in disgust at the mention of him and she promptly moved on.)

 

'A Paladin's mental strength and durability are just as important as their physical strength,' Allura emphasised. 'Without both, it can be dangerous in this field of work.'

 

And so, that led to five pairs of droopy, tired eyes staring at the large screen in front of them. The machine was like a large widescreen TV, and it buzzed with static for a while before turning on fully. A mechanical, voice rang out.

 

'Systems on. Functioning normally. Paladins, please step forward.'

 

"Whoa, it sounds like space Siri." Hunk remarked.

 

Doing as they were told, the strange space TV continued to speak.

 

'Analysing... Identities acquired. Initial screening and risk analysis complete. Please line up in the following order, and come forward when you are called.'

 

The screen promptly lit up with their names:

  1. Katie Holt
  2. Tsuyoshi Garett
  3. Keith Kogane
  4. Takashi Shirogane
  5. Lance McLain



 

Allura furrowed her brows. A strange order indeed. Tapping her mic as she stared down at her 5 paladins through the glass window of the observation deck, she cleared her throat,

 

"Lysma, are you sure about this order? It has not been accidentally scrambled in any manner?"

 

The five paladins looked back up in curiosity at her as the machine beeped out an 'Affirmative.'

 

"Allura, what does this order mean?" Shiro questioned.

 

She chewed on her lip. "It is what Lysma determines to be the levels of severely threatening mental distress present in the current paladins, in ascending order."

 

The five proceeded to gape at the list, unbelieving.

 

"I'm the most mentally stable in this group?! What the hell does that mean for everyone else? Jesus Christ..." Pidge muttered, concern evident.

 

Despite what she said, Pidge and Shiro's positions were frankly the most believable to everyone else - Pidge was the youngest and probably had not reached her emotional peak yet, they reasoned, and Shiro fell later on the list due to his unspoken PTSD.

 

The short silence following Pidge's outburst was quickly broken by Lance's brusque, though slightly shakily delivered quip,

 

"Well, well, well, interesting how Mr. Emo Mullet man ended up only third on the list!”

 

Keith shot him a glare.

 

"At least I'm not on the bottom - what're you even 'distressed' over? Ran out of face masks this morning?"

 

Lance dramatically harrumphed and folded his arms.

 

Lysma's beeping promptly shut everyone up.

 

'Paladins, please line up NOW.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop, that was just a chapter setting the scene for what's about to come~ 
> 
> This is only my second Voltron fic rip but I'm gunning for a long ass story so hold on tight and make sure your seatbelts are on because this binch is mULTI-CHAPTERED 
> 
> Looking forward to psychologically tearing my space children apart ;w;


	2. Chapter 2

One now-much-more-alert line of paladins later, Lysma hummed for a few seconds as it scanned them, processing.

'Katie Holt, please step forward.'

Pidge felt a shiver run down her spine as she anxiously slid her feet towards the machine, even more hesitant at responding to that name after its long lack of use.

'Scanning...

Scan complete. As confirmed previously, no disorders of major concern detected, but chronic insomnia is concerning. Strong feelings of longing and guilt detected, followed by anger and anguish.'

Pidge twiddled her thumbs. Dang, this thing really didn't hold back. She stared straight ahead, pointedly avoiding her teammates' gazes.

'Now proceeding to the memory phase. Processing.'

A wave of lightheadedness suddenly came over her, and she collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.

"Pidge!" Four cries rang out, Shiro already making a move to grab her.

Allura's voice once again boomed into the mic.

"Calm down, paladins. This is part of the process. Select memories that Lysma deems to be problematic in nature will appear on screen, from which it will determine whether these memories will hinder the paladin or other paladins in any way.

At this, the paladins froze, uncomfortable looks appearing on their faces. This was clearly a major invasion of privacy, but if Allura was being so calm about it, perhaps it would just be muted, something similar to the mind meld.

The screen suddenly came to life again, and the four paladins saw brief images of Pidge's family, having dinner, laughing together. This was not new to them, the mind meld had shown this before, though it still felt wrong to be delving such private memories.

Finally Lysma paused on an image of her mother's tear-streaked face.

'Guilt.'

Pidge's voice suddenly came on, startling everyone.

"I left her behind."

Like a video un-pausing, the memory began to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can pidge's past get any more angsty? 
> 
> yup it can ;^)


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you do this, Katie. Absolutely not."

 

Pidge's mother's arms were folded, her mouth set in a thin line.

 

Memory-Pidge's eyes widened with shock, before she focused them into a sharp look of determination. Her brow had wrinkles that no child her age should've had.

 

"I have to do this, mom. I know something was up with what they were doing at the Garrison, the Kerberos Mission was-“

 

Her mother slammed her hands on the table, making Memory-Pidge flinch.

 

"NO!

No, Katie, no more. I don't want to hear another word about going back to the Garrison, or th-the Mission, or any more of this. Please, just go to bed." She tried to maintain an authoritative stance, but the waver in her voice betrayed her.

 

Pidge's eyes shone with unshed tears of frustration, and she took a few steps forward, desperation and agitation coming off her in waves.

 

"Mom, I need to know what happened to Matt and Dad. There's no other way."

 

Her Mother remained silent.

 

Pidge snapped.

 

Her voice rose a few pitches higher, almost yelling.

 

"Mom, please! Don't you want to find out what happened to them? Every time I bring them up, you change the subject! It's like you're TRYING TO MAKE ME FORGET ABOUT THEM! I-"

 

She was interrupted by a hard slap across the face, earning a wince from the rest of the paladins watching.

 

She stumbled forward, grabbing onto the kitchen counter for support.

 

Her mother's hand was still halfway raised in midair, trembling.

 

"How dare you- how _dare_ you accuse me of not caring," her mother's voice was broken, voice coming out in stuttering gasps. Her tears were flowing freely now.

 

"My entire world has been torn apart ever since that news report came on, I... your father and brother..."

 

Her voice cracked, trailing off. She walked towards Pidge on shaky legs, who flinchedas if expecting to be struck again.

 

Instead, she firmly grasped her shoulders, desperation bordering on insanity in her glassy eyes as she stared at Pidge, who was kept mesmerised.

 

"Katie, you are all I have left." She gave her a hard shake as if to emphasise the point.

 

Pidge still seemed to be in shock, staring at some point beyond her mother's face. As if trying to process all that had happened, she slowly raised her hand to her cheek, still swollen an angry red.

 

There was a minute of silence.

 

Then Pidge was blinking, tears spilling out of her eyes.

 

"I... I'm sorry," she muttered, looking up and trying to meet her mother's gaze once again, and tearing her eyes away when she couldn't.

 

Without warning, she flung her startled mother off of herself and grabbed her duffel bag, making a mad dash for the door.

 

Her mother stumbled back, falling ontoknees as her eyes widened in realisation and horror.

 

“w-wait- KATIE, PLEASE!"

 

"I'M SORRY!" Pidge screamed back, running out the door, eyes clamped shut in an effort not to look back.

 

She got about two blocks' distance before sinking onto her knees as well, a mirror image of her mother for a brief moment before she planted her palms onto the ground and collapsed, chest heaving.

 

Her tears dampened the dirt in front of her, and she repeated the words over and over like a delirious mantra.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." 

 

Then, just as abruptly as the memory had started, it was ripped away.

 

The screen blanked out.

 

'Memory assessment complete.' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that happened ;w; 
> 
> I feel like as much as the show addressed Pidge's missing dad and brother, it never really expounded on what happened to her mom/the rest of her family and how they dealt with the situation. 
> 
> It also seemed weird to me how her mom didn't seem to have any objections to her only child left just taking off and sneaking into the Garrison undercover lmao like what 
> 
> But ye, that's Pidge's guilt complex have fun angsting~


	4. Chapter 4

Pidge collapsed onto the floor at an awkward angle, her head jerking back and limbs flailing as if she had received an electric shock.

 

Keith and Shiro quickly ran to her side to help her, while the rest were still frozen from what they had witnessed.

 

Allura had her hand over her mouth, eyes wide in mortification.

 

Lance was the first to cut into the silence.

 

"Princess, no offence but I really don't think we should have seen that."

 

Shiro got off Pidge, who was now trembling in a corner, knees hugged to her chest. "He's right. This was a major invasion of privacy."

 

Allura blinked, then nodded grimly, murmuring into the mic.

 

"Lysma, I don't think-"

 

'Tsuyoshi Garett, please step forward.'

 

Everyone's eyes turned to Lysma, who continued its mechanical beeping like nothing had happened.

 

Allura tried again, "Lysma, this has been enough-"

 

Lysma repeated its previous statement again, firmly. It wasn't a question - it was an **order**.

 

Hunk stood up.

 

"It's not fair if she's the only one who goes through this, if we only end up seeing her memories," he stated in a calm but determined voice, fingernails digging into his thighs.

 

They looked up at him in horror. He was right, but-

 

"I'll go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet aftermath chapter.
> 
> (I think I broke Pidge, oops haha) 
> 
> Hunk's up next on the angsty chopping block, and I cried while writing his chapter so hope y'all are ready ;w;


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for implied eating disorders, homophobic slurs, bullying, anxiety and general depressing stuff. (cries at my tags)
> 
> (i'm so sorry i love hunk i swear)

It had been like that ever since he was younger.

 

He was always a chubby kid, and his generally quiet and amiable nature led to him being pushed around constantly.

 

_Fatty. Pig._

 

_Hunk._

——————

 

Hunk clenched his teeth.

 

If he was nice, people would like him and stop treating him this way, right?

 

He exhaled.

 

Baking. He liked baking. It calmed him down, gave him instructions to follow, gave him directions but with no force or time limit behind them to make him panic. 

 

And so that's the image Hunk had crafted for himself. Fun, friendly, harmless chubby guy who was pretty useless but who’d give you baked goods if you were nice to him.

 

Surely, they'd like him then, right?

 

Wrong.

 

Now he was the pathetic fat guy who was such a pig he had to constantly stuff himself with carbs and baked goods. Nice going there, Hunk.

 

Not to mention the constant cries of "gay" and "fag" - because what kind of straight man bakes fucking cookies and is actually genuinely nice, am I right.

 

He stares at himself in the mirror. His reflection looks like it's laughing at him.

 

The mirror breaks under his fist.

 

It takes him a good minute to snap out of it and stare in horror at his bleeding knuckles.

 

"Oh crap, oh no, oh no, uh..." he inwardly yells at himself yet again for how weak he is to freak out at his own friggin _reflection_ and goes to find a first aid kit.

 

But as the antiseptic stung his clenched fist, it finally hit him.

 

_He was weak. He needed to become stronger._

 

From then on, Hunk started a rigorous training routine. He worked out to an unhealthy extent, and ate less and less with each passing day. Baking turned into starving, and then pushups.

 

He grew more muscular and buff, towering over the over kids.

 

Instead of worthless, they now found him scary and intimidating - which, with his kindhearted personality, was worse.

 

Even his old bullies would whistle and call him “Hulk”.

 

Then he transferred to the Garrison, and everything seemed fine for a little while.

 

His roommate Lance was nice and kind to him, and he had a fresh page to start on.

 

He still continued his unhealthy ‘health’ routine, but everything was lighter, and he thought he could handle it.

 

——————

 

Until one day, he couldn’t.

 

One moment he was fine, next he found himself in full-blown panic mode.

 

His hands shook as he ran them through his hair.

 

_Calm down, calm down, calm down... something to do, something to do, what can I do Hunk don't be useless-_

 

He spies a mixing bowl and whisk left on the counter of his shared dorm.

 

Baking. Yeah. He can do that.

 

He grabs a recipe - he knew them all by heart, but it was comforting to have a tactile reference point, reading and repeating the steps over and over again to himself.

 

 _You can do this, Hunk. Easy. Instructions. Follow. Step 1. Step 2. Step 3. Just follow. Follow and everything will be okay_.

 

An hour later, he finds himself with a warm batch of cookies, and much calmer.

 

Until, the voice starts up again, and he internally hits himself.

 

_I knew it. I knew you haven't changed. You're the same old fat pig faggot from middle school that everyone knew._

 

He clenches his fist again, fingernails making tiny little crescent-shaped indents in his palm. Stupid.

 

He doesn't even notice when he hears a singsong voice holler "I'm baaaack" from the front door, or see Lance skip into their shared dorm room.

 

Lance grabs a cookie from the table. Oh yeah, those.

 

He pops it into his mouth, and an even wider smile appears on his face.

 

"DUDE! These cookies are amazing! I didn't even know you could bake, dang."

 

But Hunk can't hear him or his loud chewing.

 

The pit in his stomach had been growing for a while now, the gnawing hunger from restricting his diet so much.

 

"...Hunk?"

 

His back thuds against the floor.

 

"HUNK!"

 

The last thing he hears before darkness takes over him is Lance screaming his name.

 

'Memory assessment complete.' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp.
> 
> also, just to elaborate on the whole baking thing -   
> i feel like the reason hunk likes to bake is because direct instructions 'ground' him in a certain way? 
> 
> like they don't make him as anxious, they don't require him to doubt himself.
> 
> i guess that's my rationale for him also choosing to be more of a follower than a leader. 
> 
> but anyway, that's only my take on his character, feel free to disagree!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AAAA  
> i had a theatre production to work on and that took up a lot of time orz  
> but now i'm back, updates will be happening much more regularly!!!  
> hope y'all are still with me and anticipating and soz for the impromptu hiatus ;w;

When Hunk woke up, the world around him was a blur.

 

He raised his hands to his eyes. They were wet. Oh.

 

Daring to look around, he saw his friends all staring at him, with that same disgusting sadness and pity. If they hadn't been looking down on him before, they sure were now.

 

He roared, lunging for the machine, ignoring cries of his name and various pairs of hands that appeared next to him as restraints.

 

"You motherfucker," he seethed, moving his arms in a concentrated effort to break free from his restraints.

 

Hunk never cursed.

 

If Lysma had hands, they'd be flipping him off.

 

'Keith Kogane,' it beeped, unphased.

 

Hunk stopped. So that's how Lysma wanted to play it.

 

He snorted bitterly, dropping his raised fists to his sides in defeat. Cocking his head towards the machine, he sharply inhaled before gesturing for Keith to step forward.

 

"Might as well get it over with."

 

His voice was flat, face blank and expressionless.

 

Keith looked at him cautiously, studying his expression for a moment, before stepping forward.

 

Allura frantically scrambled for the microphone. 

 

"Paladins, please, this is not healthy, just wait for us to find a way to shut down the systems-"

 

But Keith was already being engulfed in a flash of white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayee so that was hunk!
> 
> just a short 'lil aftermath chapter. 
> 
> next up is keith, hooo boy...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ASDFGHJKJKL ;;;
> 
> School got to me (again) orz 
> 
> and then a last minute animation came up for me to do (I animate stuff sometimes) and I've been rushing it ever since aaa 
> 
> But I had enough time to finish Keith's story, so I hope y'all like this one!!
> 
> (Disclaimer: Yes, not all people in the foster care system go through abuse, I know a lot of people who got through it just fine! But I felt that Keith having a not-so-great family life and foster backstory would explain a lot of his current mannerisms and overall uncomfortable/awkward nature with people, so if you're uncomfortable with these topics then feel free to skip over his chapter!)

_‘Be wary._

_Always on guard._

_Everyone will hurt you._

_Trust no one.’_

 

——————

 

Keith wasn't good with people.

 

Keith knew this.

 

Most people knew this.

 

Most people knew this, but also just wrote it off as some weird emo depressed orphan thing.

 

It wasn't - well, not really.

 

One thing Keith always noticed was that how people usually assumed that losing your parents was the worst part of being an orphan.

 

He couldn't really bring himself to agree. He had been so young when his parents died, he didn't even really remember much about them, much less miss them.

 

No, what was worse was that without a blood-related family, there was no one left obligated to care for you. No one who was by blood required to give a shit about you.

 

And when no one gave a shit about you in that sense, that was when a window for harm presented itself.

 

Keith had spent so many years suppressing his foster home history, that now on normal days it was just a small blip, an insignificant speck on the timeline of his life.

 

And frankly that was what he wanted, normalisation. To forget it ever happened.

 

But when you're stuck with only 4 other humans in space, it's natural for most to want to seek out comfort.

 

And there was too much comfort.

 

And too.

Much.

Touching.

 

And it was always on those days, when someone would grip his shoulder and he'd tense up, trying his best to ignore his impulses telling him to throw the other person over his shoulder, or when they'd gather in the way-too-frequent group hugs and he'd clench his teeth and wait for it to be over, that he'd go back to his room as soon as possible before his head started throbbing and the tell-tale dizziness and shortness of breath would begin.

 

He'd tuck himself into bed, trying to sleep it off.

 

And then the nightmares would begin. 

 

——————

 

He had faced his foster home with as much innocence and blind faith as a normal young boy his age would have, and that had been his downfall.

 

They had seemed nice at first, Mr and Mrs Moore.

 

He spent the first day at their house darting from room to room excitedly, yelling about how big it was and how he was "so happy to live in such a cool house". They had smiled kindly at that.

 

First few weeks were fine, went normally enough. The new school had been a bit of a rush to adjust to, and he had always had a bit of an awkward streak in him, but he guessed it was fine.

 

Then the alcohol came.

 

He remembered how he’d taken off his shoes at the door and walked in yelling “I’m home!” down the hall like he always did, only to be greeted with silence instead of the usual “Welcome home, honey!” from Mr or Mrs Moore.

 

Funny, at least one of them were always home by the time he got back, and the door was open so that definitely meant someone was home.

 

He heard a low grunt come from the master bedroom.

"Mr Moore?"

 

He padded down the hall and quietly rapped on the door.

 

He heard a chair screech painfully against the ground, and thundering, uneven footsteps making their way towards him before the door was swinging open with enough force to knock the air out of him and hurl him backwards onto the ground.

 

"Shut your mouth, fucking brat.”

 

A gasp choked itself out of his throat as he felt the sharp sting of a palm against his face, and his eyes darted wildly around the room in confusion. 

_Was he in a bad mood? Was it something he had done? Had he not been a good enough child for them? Maybe he talked too much, maybe-_

 

Just then, the door creaked open, startling the both of them.

 

Mrs Moore’s head peeked in, head tilting curiously.

 

“Hun? What’s going on?”

 

Keith looked up with her, desperate watery eyes shining in the glint of the afternoon sun.

 

She glanced at his face, before her eye caught the bottle of gin in her husband's hand and she dropped her purse in alarm, quickly scrambling towards the distraught little boy.

 

“If you’re quiet and just listen to him, everything will be over faster.” she whispered in a shaky voice, one that scared Keith even more.

 

“What did you say to him, you bitch?”

 

Next thing he knew, Mrs Moore’s body was landing hard against the wall, pinned by Mr Moore’s strong arm.

His previously loving foster father dragged her into the master bedroom, before slamming the door shut.

 

Keith didn’t even have time to feel relieved for himself or concerned for Mrs Moore, before the door creaked open again, and Mr Moore darted his head out, shooting him an icy glare that shook him to his core.

 

“You’re next.”

 

——————

 

Since then, he had learned over time that the easiest way to cope would be to desensitise yourself, distance yourself. They weren't entertained if they didn't get a good reaction, and if he didn't have to deal with anything emotionally then all the better for his mental health and sanity.

 

His social life at school deteriorated as he grew weary of coming to whatever new school he'd be at that month, introduction after reintroduction, making new friends and then having to come up with excuse after excuse for each bruise and mark.

 

Eventually, he pulled away entirely. He figured it wasn't a complete loss, I mean - they were all just like his fosters, they weren't blood, they probably didn't give a shit about him either.

 

His mind haphazardly flitted few a through more select memories - the man who would caress his thighs and called him a "pretty little Asian boy", the woman who would 'accidentally' spill hot soup on him if he talked too much - before they too melted away into the darkness, and then they were gone.

 

'Memory assessment complete.'


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaa??? This is still alive?? 
> 
> But legit though, I'm really sorry for all the delays, especially for scaring people who thought this was a dead fic! 
> 
> It's not, I promise! 
> 
> I got an internship, and that took up a lot of time... Then mental health got me too, and between depression and flat out stress I've been way too caught up to update. But I finally have a day off and I'm feeling fine, so here ya go!
> 
> I'll definitely finish this story by the end of the year - thanks for your patience~!

When Keith regained consciousness, he wasn’t in shock like the other two who had gone ahead of him, stunned into silence at the traumatic memories he’d just had to relive.

 

No, in typical Keith fashion, he channeled his emotions into rage, and, as Keith would do in this sort of situation, attempted to kick Lysma’s ass.

 

The rest of the paladins merely stared ahead, eyes still wide in disbelief, until Shiro had the sense to get up and attempt to restrain him.

 

“Keith, stop!”

 

The angry Korean boy gritted his teeth, struggling as Shiro pinned his arms behind his back.

 

“Stupid fucking machine, stupid fucking memories, stupid fucking exercise-” he trailed off, apparently realising something, before looking up at the observation deck and yelling,

 

“Allura, what the fuck was that?! How the hell is this supposed to help us bond?”

 

Allura had tears in her eyes, shaking her head wildly, still caught up in the horrible things she had seen in Keith’s memories.

 

Keith pushed Shiro off of him, glaring up at the massive machine in front of him.

 

“We can’t do this anymore. We just can’t. This was a stupid idea.”

 

Just then, a soft, low voice dared to reply, “No.”

 

Hunk was standing, gripping the side of the column so hard his knuckles were white. Eyebrows furrowed, the look on his face seemed far away, so far away from his usual expression.

 

“What about us then? The people who got our memories thrown on display without our consent? The team dynamic will never be the same if they know our secrets, and we know theirs. Besides, we still don’t know the meaning of that ranking thing.”

 

His words sunk into the team like stones.

 

The team leader swallowed.

 

“He has a point.”

 

Keith looked up at Shiro as if he had just lost his mind.

 

“Shiro, no, this is ridiculous- Shiro! SHIRO!”

 

Shiro felt his knees weaken, then he hit the ground.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (TW for some violence and gore, torture and trauma)
> 
> a double update??  
> say what now??? (totally not 'cause i'm guilty for not updating in, like, forever ahaha) 
> 
> i'm sorry if this chapter seems a little bit strange... i really have no idea how to write shiro, his character traits are usually more muted and subtle and not as easy to write orz
> 
> but i hope this isn't too shit lmao, enjoy!

Glaring purple and yellow lights were the first thing he saw.

 

A ceiling that was nothing like anything on Earth, and some sort of surgical lighting so bright it made spots dance in Shiro’s eyes.

 

Almost everyone knew that the origin of Shiro’s unspoken post-traumatic stress disorder had always been his largely scarring (in more ways than one) stay with the Galra.

 

The team knew this, and yet they were still largely unprepared for the next thing they saw.

 

Shiro blinked his heavy eyes fully awake, before looking down and giving the team a glimpse of his battered, naked body. Messy stitches were scattered across his entire figure, large ones going down his torso, smaller ones on his arms, legs and face like something from out of a Frankenstein movie.

 

Even more distressing was the feelings that past Shiro had seemed to have had at this moment, the overwhelming feelings of normalcy towards the situation he was currently in.

 

_Not this again. I hate it when they do this. It was my stomach and heart last time, right? I wonder what’ll be next._

 

A Galra dressed in a blue nurse’s garb and mask walked in, eliciting a visceral reaction from the present Shiro, who was still unconscious and caught up in the memory.

 

“No, please… no… no…” he repeated like a prayer, voice completely torn to shreds. It was the sound of a broken man. It was more than awful to hear their leader in such a damaged state.

 

“Hello again, little human. Holding up well?”

 

Shiro attempted to nod. The Galra doctor smiled in response.

 

“You won’t be for long.”

 

He walked forward and gestured to a large chart, showing a diagram of human anatomy, the right arm circled in red. Next to it was a familiar-looking robotic limb.

 

“It’s time to make yourself useful to the Galra empire, Shiro.”

 

The sound of a large laser powering up sent chills down their spine.

 

“Oh, I forgot to mention - we ran out of anaesthetic, so this might hurt a little.”

 

Shiro’s eyes widened then, and he struggled again the restraints, starting to panic. Clearly this hadn’t been the case in any of the previous sessions.

 

The next sensation that hit them was absolutely terrible.

 

Every bit of pain he felt, every nerve that the Galra laser cut through was somehow felt by all of them in the room at that moment, and it was like they were on fire.

 

Pidge and Hunk had begun shedding silent tears, Lance gritted his teeth and Keith bit his lip so hard it drew blood.

 

Shiro’s screams of agony echoed through the deathly silent training floor.

 

"Y-you were conscious," Keith choked out through the pain, voice cracking, verbalising what the rest of the paladins were realising with growing horror.

 

Not once throughout the operation had Shiro passed out from the pain or horror of it all, the sheer adrenaline pumping through his body keeping him awake as he watched the tendons of his arm become visible, the laser ripping through his skin like it was paper.

 

As if Lysma decided to take pity on them, the scene suddenly changed, making all the paladins heave relieved breaths, collapsing onto the floor shakily.

 

The next memory played.

 

——————

 

The thundering voices of hundreds of Galra echoed through the arena as Shiro and some smaller, younger man wrestled with each other.

 

While Shiro had seemed confident and focused on the screen, the thoughts they could hear in his head told another story. The pit of anxiety in his stomach made him feel like he was drowning.

 

_It’s never been like this before. They don’t usually throw two humans in here together… What are they planning?_

 

He looked up at Matt for some sort of comfort, who was standing in a hidden corner with the other prisoners, eyes screwed shut at the violence that was taking place in front of him.

 

His opponent took this opportunity to tackle him to the ground, holding his knife to his throat.

 

The sheer shock of suddenly being restrained sent him into fight or flight, and he swiftly flipped the younger boy over, pointing his robotic arm at his neck automatically as he had for every other prisoner he had killed in that arena.

 

Just then, the younger boy looked up at him, eyes pleading, effectively snapping Shiro out of it.

 

_What the hell am I doing? He’s human, I can’t… He’s not like the others, I can’t kill him, this isn’t happening, I-_

 

**“KILL. KILL. KILL.”**

 

The arena shook with the intensity of the Galra’s chants. Shiro shot the boy beneath him a desperate look, his determined mask breaking.

 

“I can’t do this.” he whispered to the boy softly, voice trembling.

 

The boy beneath him took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

 

Meeting Shiro’s gaze again, he now seemed determined, and to the horror of both Shiro and the team, grabbed his robotic arm and pressed it to his skin.

 

“Yes, you can. Kill me. Now.”

 

Shiro was crying softly now, silent tears falling and landing on the younger boy’s face.

 

“I’d rather die at your hands than the hands of some random Galra soldier. Survive, and find some way to free the rest of the prisoners.”

 

He cupped Shiro’s face gently, giving him a small smile.

 

Shiro closed his eyes.

 

A loud blast rang through the arena.

 

Silence reigned for a few seconds, before the crowd roared with approval.

 

**“CHAMPION. CHAMPION. CHAMPION.”**

 

Shiro picked up the decapitated head of the boy and raised it in the air, his trademark signature ending move after every defeat.

 

Body trembling and tears still wet on his cheeks, he felt something break inside of him.

 

'Memory assessment complete.'


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!!  
> your (now regularly scheduled ;) update is here~
> 
> i feel like i torture these kids too much ;w;;
> 
> hope you enjoy!
> 
> lance's chappie coming soon //wink wonks

Shiro was catatonic when he woke up.

 

Completely unresponsive, he remained in fetal position, arms curled close to his chest, silent tears leaving translucent trails on his cheeks. No matter how the team tried, they couldn’t get him to speak, or respond to any sort of communication, verbal or otherwise.

 

Most of the team was flat-out bawling at this point, completely wrecked by the sight of the sorry state of their normally brave and confident leader.

 

Keith dug his knife into the floor in frustration.

 

“We can’t do this anymore. We fucking can’t.”

 

Even Hunk had nodded at that, wiping his tears on his sleeve as he stroked Shiro’s back comfortingly, concerned beyond belief.

 

Coran nervously coughed into the microphone. “May I remind you all that there’s still the Blue Paladin left.”

 

The remaining paladins rose immediately, ready to object, but Coran held up his hand and continued.

 

“I know… I know how hard this must be psychologically on you all, but if you stop here there’s no telling how skewed the paladin bond will be if everyone except one has revealed their troubles.”

 

“Do you want to go or not, Lance?” Keith asked, turning his attention to the conflicted-looking Blue Paladin, who looked down at his feet almost shyly.

 

“I… I’m not sure, I…” Lance twiddled his thumbs, indecisive.

 

“Don’t you remember what Lysma said though? Lance was ranked number one on that list we saw way earlier, higher than even Shiro.” Hunk quickly interjected, going into Best Friend Mode.

 

“What if we see something worse than what we’ve seen already? If Shiro was traumatised this much after seeing his memories, imagine how Lance might be affected if he experiences something like that too?”His voice was unusually steady and sure, and as he laid a strong hand on Lance’s shoulder, his face betrayed some sort of further knowledge of what he was talking about.

 

Before anyone could reply, Lance himself stood up, a smile plastered on his face. It couldn’t have been anything but fake given the current circumstances they were in, but it looked so genuine it was almost unnerving.

 

“It’s fine, guys! I’m sure it’s nothing totally bad. I mean, I’m _Lance_ , right? How horrible could my life be? I’m sure Lysma made a mistake, whatever Shiro went through was way worse, I can guarantee it.” Lance’s cheery voice had a bitter, sad edge to it that somehow went unnoticed by the rest.

 

Allura tapped the mic in front of her thoughtfully.

 

“That certainly is true, given Lance’s bright personality… We might even get a pleasant or fun memory to brighten the mood.”

 

Pidge scoffed. “Not like there’s much in that head of his anyway.”

 

Hunk grimaced.

 

In the midst of their debate on what to do next, no one noticed Lance pad up slowly to the machine, before he was engulfed in a bright white light, Lysma powering up once again. 

 

“LANCE!”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [as always, a multitude of trigger warnings: underhanded biphobia/homophobia, racism depending on how you view it, panic attacks, feelings of low self-worth and suicide attempts] 
> 
> Happy holidays in advance!  
> (hope you don't get too depressed to celebrate after reading this :) 
> 
> Lance, Lance, Lance... my boy... 
> 
> this is a really long chapter because i decided to explore his pain a little differently from the rest! i felt that for Lance, he had to break his barriers down completely and the usual memory exploration thing wouldn't have worked on him due to his thicc ass walls™
> 
> also, i'm part spanish but my spanish is sUPER rusty, so sorry if there are any mistakes!

 

 _“¡Basta ya! Por favor, me duele… Por favor….”_ Lance clutched his head, crumbling to his knees as the rest of the paladins watched in horror.

 

Unlike what had happened during everyone else’s turns with the machine, Lysma was now shaking and whirring rapidly, the noise almost deafening. 

 

Lance appeared to be in severe pain, sobbing to himself in Spanish with a broken, wrecked voice.

 

“Shh. It’s okay buddy, everything’s going to be just fine, _todo va a estar bien_.”

 

Hunk gingerly rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, trying to whisper soothing words to him, but nothing seemed to reach him in his pained state. The more functional members of the team alternated between trying to comfort Lance and attempting to stop the rogue mind machine.

 

Suddenly, Lance collapsed, becoming limp in Hunk’s grip.

 

“Lance!”

 

‘Physical manifestation of mental turmoil complete. Proceeding with mind evaluation.’

 

Before anyone in the room could ponder what Lysma had meant, the screen in front of them came to life, playing something that they had never seen before.

 

——————

 

It was red.

 

Red and dark, pulsating and throbbing like it was alive.

 

On Lysma’s display seemed to be the insides of some sort of animal, dimly lit like a cave, yet the walls seemed to be fleshy and raw, like a heart.

 

‘Now entering paladin’s mindspace.’

 

_Estás invadiendo mi mente._

 

The voice was Lance’s, but deeper, angrier.

 

Lysma paused.

 

This paladin’s first language had been different from the rest, so it was unsurprising that he thought in that same, strange language as well.

 

‘Activating universal translator.’

 

_You’re invading my mind._

 

Memories began taking shape on the carmine walls - Lance surrounded by his large family, a young Lance walking to school with his backpack, Lance playing soccer with his brothers, and doing face masks with his sisters.

 

’This is all part of the process, young paladin. Unlike your teammates, you seem the most hesitant to open up about your troubles, yet there are so many…’

 

_That’s none of your business._

 

Lysma hummed.

 

A new memory appeared in his mind, Lance’s father towering over a younger version of him, holding a single letter.

 

_No, not that one, wait please-_

 

——————

 

“Your mother and I have discussed, my son, and we have decided it would be best for you to start school here,” Lance’s father spoke in a hesitant, low tone.

 

The translation that Lysma provided fell out of sync with his father’s spanish mouth movements, Keith noted attentively.

 

Lance’s father handed his son the letter, who opened it and promptly dropped it in surprise.

 

“The Garrison? You want me to become a cadet?!”

 

Lance’s father bit his lip.

 

“Son, we’ve been thinking about what you told us a few months ago… We think that some time in the military will do you good, let you think about your choices. We only want the best for you.”

 

Lance’s face was unreadable.

 

“You really… You really felt that it was necessary to do all this, just because I told you all that I was-”

 

Lance’s father sighed.

 

“I know son, I know. I love you all the same, we all love you, but… They will not be so kind in the real world if you have such… preferences. Perhaps going through a military setting will clear your mind a bit, after all, you- you said you liked both, right? Maybe if you spend enough time with men, you will end up preferring women-”

 

A sob broke through the boy’s body, Lance biting his lip and looking down in shame.

 

The rest of the team stared on, shocked at this new revelation.

 

_Don’t be angry at them… they only wanted the best for me._

 

Sure enough, Lance’s father kissed the top of his son’s head, cupping his chin soothingly.

 

“My dear, dear son, we only want the best for you.”

 

The memory faded to black.

 

——————

 

Before anyone could even question anything that had happened, Lance’s mind was already shooting off left and right.

 

_They don’t hate me, my parents aren’t abusive, I swear, none of this is their fault, I mean, there are way more traditional families that would’ve kicked me out but they didn’t so they love me and-_

 

‘But it made you feel ashamed, did it not?’

 

Lysma’s robotic voice pierced through his tangent, and Lance fell silent.

 

Memories of flirting with various women and female aliens on missions bloomed across Lance’s mindscape, and Lysma hummed.

 

‘Flirting as a coping mechanism, though…’

 

_I just want my family to be proud of me when I return._

 

The voice in Lance’s mind had lost its edge from earlier, now simply spitting his thoughts bitterly and plainly as they were.

 

‘That wasn’t all of it, wasn’t it though? Your life has been riddled with instances in which you have been made to feel like a failure.’

 

The screen faded to another memory.

 

——————

 

“H-hello, my name is Alejandro. I am t… tir… thir… teen… years old.”

 

Unlike before, the sound now came in sync with Lance’s lip movements, indicating that Lance was actually speaking English now.

 

Lance groaned, slamming the cover of the thick, hardcover book he had been peering into.

 

 _’English Basics For Non-Native Speakers’_ , the cover read.

 

“Wait, he didn’t grow up bilingual? His American accent is perfect when he speaks, though!” Pidge piped up in disbelief as she stared at the younger version of her friend who was currently struggling with the language, his mouth curled in distaste as he attempted to make sounds that were entirely foreign to him.

 

There was so much to Lance that the team had simply just not known or neglected to ask about. What else could he have been hiding?

 

‘Fast forward to 3 years later,’ Lysma buzzed.

 

The surroundings of the memory changed rapidly, until the screen showed an older Lance with a much more confident command of English strutting through the Garrison hallways, winking at girls and high-fiving friends.

 

Just then, the Garrison announcement bell pierced through the school, making all the paladins jump automatically at the familiar sound.

 

“Attention all freshmen, transfer and exchange students, the skills placement test will be taking place shortly. Please report to your respective classrooms.”

 

The upturned corner of Lance’s mouth twitched.

 

The memory sped up a little before stopping once again.

 

Lance was now seated in his classroom, thumb and forefinger already flipping the cover sheet of the test paper over.

 

_I can do this. I can do this._

 

‘View paladin’s perspective.’

 

The screen spun until the team was now looking directly through Lance’s field of vision.

 

The previously perfectly understandable English on the paper was now incoherent, mismatched words and phrases floating around haphazardly without meaning.

 

The view of the screen began to shake, and the team could hear Lance beginning to hyperventilate as he trembled, vision blurring with tears out of the sheer panic that he couldn’t understand most of what was written.

 

“Time’s up.”

 

Lysma fast-forwarded again, and the team didn’t even need to look up to visualise Lance’s broken expression when he received his just-pass score on the placement test, and a single word stamped in red.

 

**Cargo Pilot.**

 

——————

 

The voice from Lance’s head tore through the somber silence following the memory.

 

_Look, I get it, I know all of this already!_

 

_I’m insecure about being bisexual, so I flirt with girls._

 

_I’m insecure about my English, so I spent years perfecting my accent._

 

_I’m insecure about my lack of talent and knowledge because Iverson and the other teachers kept drilling into my head that I was stupid and useless, when I really just had no fucking idea how to understand half the shit they were saying because English isn’t my first language._

 

_What more do you need to see? That I use makeup and have a beauty routine because I’m self-conscious about how I look?_

_That I wear a jacket to cover up scars, most of which are self-inflicted?_

 

_What more?_

 

_All of these things don’t compare to the trauma that the others have went through. I’m just too weak to deal with my own problems._

 

Lysma buzzed again.

 

‘It’s not that you’ve gone through less distressing things, paladin. You haven’t had it any harder or easier than the rest of your team. However, it is your mindset that is the most worrying out of all of your friends.’

 

The memories on the screen suddenly spun around again, this time flipping through what seemed to be memories of all the missions they'd had since starting Voltron.

 

Lance jumping in front of Coran before the bomb went off, Lance overexerting himself despite being injured from that and shooting Sendak, Lance leaping in front of all of them defensively at various points in time through different missions. 

 

Meanwhile, what seemed to be Lance's unfiltered inner dialogue played in the background, along with even more probing questions from Lysma.

 

_I'm not important._

_I'm expendable._

_Not good enough._

_Need to be better._

 

‘Why are you doing this?’

 

_I need to make myself relevant on a mission, if I can't do anything else I can at least do things too risky or dangerous for the others to do. I’m the only one they can afford to lose - the rest are too important._

 

‘Isn't it selfish that you always want to make yourself relevant and important?’

 

_No... that's not it..._

 

The swirling thoughts changed to "useless, not useful enough".

 

_I don't like being a dead weight._

 

‘And what if you die? Surely that will inconvenience your fellow paladins even more?’

 

_If I die in the process, that's not really a problem, it's a bonus - we'll get a more talented blue paladin, and I'll die being useful to the team while also being able to escape the fucked up thoughts in my head. A win-win situation._

 

Lysma hummed.

 

‘Do you want to know how I ranked the mental instability of you paladins?’

 

_Huh?_

 

‘I ranked them based on who was in the most immediate danger of **harming** themselves.’

 

Lance's mind finally paused, the screen settling on a shot of a landscape that seemed vaguely familiar.

 

‘Notrion,’ Pidge recalled, a planet that they had freed from Zarkon's grasp not too long ago.

 

The screen zoomed in on a cliff, and everyone froze as he sat on the edge, dangling his legs and looking down into the darkness below. It would've been an almost innocent image, had they not known what they knew now.

 

"No..." Keith gasped, worrying on his lower lip.

 

"I could just die here."

 

Lance's voice rang loud and painfully clear, with a cheeriness to it that made everyone in the room shiver.

 

That day, Lance had made an amazing shot, taking out the captain of the reigning Galra fleet and earning compliments from the team to the inhabitants of the liberated planet, which he took as he usually did with his winks and flirty smiles.

 

"I could just die here, a heroic paladin of Voltron. Not too much of a disappointment, for once in my life. Today was a lucky shot and I know it."

 

He stood up, staring straight down the cliff.

 

Suddenly, a strong breeze blew over the area, catching Lance off guard. He gave a startled yelp as he was pushed over the edge, managing to grab onto a branch in his flurry of limbs.

 

He dangled from the side of the cliff.

Blood was coursing through his veins, and he felt adrenaline pumping throughout his body, but strangely, felt no fear.

 

He looked down.

 

It was a long drop.

 

Would anyone actually look for him? Maybe Blue would get a better pilot, the universe someone they actually deserved to defend them, his family some closure on the fact that their one upsettingly mediocre son had finally died.

 

"Fuck it."

 

He let go of the branch.

 

"Lance!"

 

Everyone was now screaming in horror, disbelief at how this had happened only recently and yet not a single person had known.

 

In the brief moments of him falling through the air, he heard his lion roar, and the sound of something approaching him at top speed, before the falling sensation stopped and all he saw was darkness.

 

'Memory assessment complete.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update: 
> 
> wHOOPS FORGOT TO INCLUDE TRANSLATIONS!!! 
> 
> “¡Basta ya! Por favor, me duele… Por favor….” = "Stop it! Please, it hurts... Please..." 
> 
> "...todo va a estar bien" = everything will be fine


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI I'M BACK~  
> (okay i know y'all hate me for all the delays aaa) 
> 
> a lot of stuff happened, i had to stay at a psych ward for some stuff,, got hospitalised etc. so it was a bit of a wild ride ahaha
> 
> but i'm bACK NOW and ready to finish this story!!!
> 
> this fic is nearly over, but i plan to write more in the future, so i hope y'all continue to read them if you enjoy them!

The five paladins sat in silence, all facing away from each other, refusing to meet each other's eyes.

 

Allura had her head buried in her hands. This exercise had been a complete disaster. This what not what she had wanted for her paladins at all.

 

Coran blankly stared at the rest of the castle's occupants, a sinking feeling of emptiness inside of him.

 

The risk analysis hadn't prepared them for any of this at all…

 

‘Wait.’

 

That was when it hit him.

 

Everyone had misunderstood the initial risk analysis reading.

 

No one had better or worse problems than anyone else - they'd all suffered in their own ways.

 

But the difference was - the first 3 on the list had found coping mechanisms.

 

It was already common knowledge that Keith expressed all his emotions through his fighting and excessive training, battering the training dummies so much that it gave Coran the worst headache to clean up after.

 

Pidge was also infamous for staying up for weeks at a time, fidgeting with her computer and devices late into the night.

 

And, of course, Hunk, with both the aforementioned fiddling and baking on his side. Well, then again, if baking reminded him of his past...

 

He blinked. Okay, maybe not the best or healthiest coping mechanisms, but they still had something.

 

He tugged Allura's hand, meeting her sad eyes. Someone had to take charge in this situation, before everything got worse.

 

They exchanged sympathetic looks for a brief moment, then quickly ran down to start some serious damage control.


End file.
